Pictures in BulletShattered Frames
by Wally-West-Go-Zoom
Summary: An in depth little ditty on the shoot-out. He's slowly losing everything he loved . . . and there's nothing he can do to stop it.


Alright, this is my very first Four Brothers story, so be nice. If it goes well, there may be more, but I don't know. I love Jack more than, like, anything. *sigh* He's a sexy beast.

Anywhose, this is incredibly angsty and horribly tragic. Personally, I believe they should die for killing Jack, but unfortunately . . . I get no say in the matter . . . leadin to the disclaimer of I OWN NOTHING!

If I did though, I could think of some things to do with Bobby and Jack . . . XD

Whatever . . . anyway . . . I als love the dynamic of the relationship between Jack and Bobby . . . which was the basis for this story.

* * *

Through all his rage, Bobby'd still had seen it. He may have been pissed beyond all belief, but he wasn't blind.

It was that look of undeniable hurt in Jack's eyes before Jerry came over. He didn't want to believe Jerry had done anything to get Ma killed, but he was also smart enough to know that what ever happened today would tear apart his family even more than it already was.

Bobby was sorry, but there was no other way around it.

He had hit Jerry, and they had him on the floor to ask him questions, and Sofi was standing in the doorway screaming, "No, Bobby, no!" From the corner of his eye, he saw the fear etched in every single line on Jack's young face, and the way his breath quickened as he started to panic slightly.

His now watery blue eyes flickered nervously between Bobby and Angel, and Jerry as the accusations were made, his mouth pulled in a tight line.

"You made the payments!" he cried, his voice sounding desperate as he inserted himself into the conversation for the first time. He wanted--no, needed-- to understand why as Jerry turned to look at him, as though surprised he'd even spoken.

He watched as Jerry launched himself to his feet, sick of what the oldest and second youngest Mercer's were saying, shoving Bobby and decking Angel so he went flying back into a wall. Fragile things fell from the shelf and broke on the floor. He shifted uncomfortably, fidgeting, wanting to be anywhere but here. His hands fisted into the legs of his jeans as he tried unsuccessfully to block everything out. His eyes widened, staring unseeing at some point on the floor, flinching with every word.

It vaguely registered in the back of Bobby's mind that it was situations, fights and arguments and beatings, similar or worse than this that had traumatized Jack so much in the first place. And he wanted to go to his little brother and apologize, hold him close and let him know everything would be alright, but there were things that needed to be dealt with first.

Jackie would understand.

He swallowed hard. "Wait, I thought the city cut you off, Jerry." he said, finding his voice again.

"Douglas? C'mon man this is Detroit! Sweet owns Douglas!" He recoiled slightly under Jerry's heated gaze, but held his ground.

Jerry's explaining everything, finally coming clean. Somewhere in the distance, Bobby hears someone knocking at the door. But he has more important things to deal with. They'll come back later. He doesn't even notice when Jack gets up to answer it, relieved to have something to take him away from the pain and anger in the living room.

Once at the door, Jack lets his anger get the best of him. He's so angry and hurt and upset at what his brothers are doing to him, each other, and their family, that all it takes is an inappropriate comment and a snowball in the face to set him off.

He takes off after him, yelling, "Son of a bitch! Piece of shit!"

"Jack? Jack!" Inside, Bobby realizes his little brother's missing, and connects the dots. His heart skips a beat. He runs to get his guns, the adrenaline pouring into his veins.

And outside, Jack stops with a gasp. Between the time it takes for the man to pull the gun and fire it, he realizes the gravity of his mistake. And then there's the unbelievably loud _**BANG**_ and the pain, unbearable, throbbing, as he falls to his knees on the frozen, slush-covered pavement.

As he presses his hand tight to his enflamed shoulder, he can vaguely hear a voice behind him, calling out to him. _Bobby_, he thinks sadly as he tries to breathe, to hold on for them.

"_JACK!_" As soon as Bobby sees him on the ground, his heart stops cold in his chest. He runs out, closely followed by Angel, Jerry, and Sofi. The gunman aims for Jack's head, and the littlest Mercer can't move. Bobby doesn't even hesitate before taking him out.

But then there are more of them.

Jerry recoils and Angel's eyes widen in horror as Jack is shot again and again as he tries to run to safety. About five more times.

_No._

Bobby is cold and calculating as he continues to fire shots, killing the others, the intruders. His mind is denying what just happened to Jack. _He's ok, he's ok, that fucking little fairy's fine!_ He chants it to himself like a mantra, but deep down doesn't really believe it.

Jack just barely manages to crawl over to the telephone pole, screaming and crying in sheer anguish. They all want desperately to go to him, but the rain of gunfire prevents that, and they're forced to retreat.

Bobby dives behind the brick wall of the porch, and he hears Sofi shriek from inside. But the one thing he hears above all else, above the bullets, and the chaos, is Jack's voice.

It's more a sobbed scream than anything else, a desperate and terrified cry for help from one of the few people he'd ever completely trusted. "BOBBY!" He's begging, pleading.

"JACK!" _No, no, no!_

"BOBBY!" All he can hear is the blood pounding in his ears. He doesn't know if Bobby can hear him. But he needs him. Jack needs his oldest brother.

The others can hear this exchange from inside. "JACK!" Jerry yells. He can't help but feel responsible, like he brought this down upon them.

And maybe he did.

With a feral growl, Bobby points his gun over the edge and fires. Jack needs him, and that's all there is to it.

He hears Jack's wails of agony, and his youngest brother calls for him again.

"Jack, hold on!" It's an order, not a request. It's also a desperate plea. Jack can't die. He can't. He can't lose his mom _and _his Jack. He can't lose anything, or anyone else.

He just . . . can't.

Jack suddenly goes silent and that scares him more than anything, even more than the gunfire being concentrated on his position.

Jack can feel himself slipping. He can't speak. All the loud and terrifying noises around him are surprisingly quiet, muffled somehow. His vision's going too, and he is finding it hard to draw breath.

He can just barely hear the scuffles and commotions, but that doesn't matter, because he can hear a voice, clear as a bell ringing in his ear. "Oh, Jackie." It's sweet and sad, but the best sound in the world to him.

"Mom," he tries to say, but can't manage it. He can't talk.

Then there's a great big crash and everything goes absolutely silent. Then he can just make out the sound of running footsteps crunching through the snow and ice.

And then they're there, his brothers. He can just barely see Angel, but it's Bobby's face he sees the clearest, swimming just above him.

"Jack, look at me, you alright?! Hold on! WE NEED AN AMBULANCE!" He feels confused, but then realizes that last bit wasn't directed toward him.

"Somebody help! Call 911!" he hears Angel yell. They're both panicking.

And then Jerry's there too, followed by Sofi.

"Jack! Jack! Jack!" They're all saying his name, trying to get him to hold on. Why can't they understand that he can't? It hurts too badly, and besides, mom's waiting for him. And now that they're here, he feels like he won't die alone.

He's so cold. All he can feel is the pain and the warmth from Bobby's gloved hands as he cradles his face. He tries to hold it in, but he's wincing, practically convulsing. He knows they can see the blood he can taste in his mouth.

"Jack, please, c'mon man!" Bobby pleads.

"I'm calling, I'm calling!" Sofi wails.

"C'mon Jack, you gotta breath!" Bobby's holding back tears. But . . . Bobby doesn't cry. Ever. "Don't you die on me, you little fairy! You gotta fucking breath! C'mon!" Bobby's begging now.

He wants to hold on, he really does, but he can't. It's too late.

And Jack just can't help but smile up at him through his pain. It's almost time now, and he knows it. With no voice, he tries to show with his smile everything he wants them to know. That it was good to see them again, after so many years apart. That he's sorry, and he wished that almost everything had turned out differently. That it wasn't their fault, and they can't blame themselves or each other. That he's glad they're here with him now and he's not dying alone. And most importantly, that he loves them with all his heart, mind, and soul.

And then it's time. He doesn't want to leave them, but he has no choice. He feels his entire body relax, and the only thing supporting his head is Bobby's hands. And it's ok, because even though he'll miss them like hell, he's going somewhere better and he'll see them again someday.

"Jack! Jack, c'mon, Jack, please!" Bobby begs, and he's sobbing hard now. Jerry and Angel are too. Because they know what Jack knew, and they hate it just as much. But, unlike Jack, they won't accept it, least of all Bobby.

That was the last thing Jack Mercer ever heard, as he finally let go completely, and died in his oldest brother's arms, leaving only memories and pictures in bullet-shattered frames.

When Bobby Mercer goes to bed tonight, he won't sleep.

He'll cry, because he'll realize what's been lost, and how little he has left, not to mention how much he loved everything that's gone.

He'll come to comprehend that he's missing someone he'd loved more than anything, and he can never get him back.

He'll recognize the fact that Jackie, his little brother who was so innocent, died in his arms with his name on his lips.

And it'll occur to him that the dead and dying never know the scars and gaping wounds they leave on the living.

He'll feel like he's bleeding to death.

Unfortunately, the only person who can fix him will be lying cold, alone, and dead in a morgue drawer, and it's that thought that will haunt him the rest of his life.

Bobby will wonder about all the little things. All the 'I love you's' he thought but never said, and the hugs he never gave. When he wanted to stop and talk to him, but had other things get in the way. All the times he wasn't there for him when he should have been.

He'll think about how once his mom and Jack are avenged, and all his vengeance and anger are burned up, all he'll have left is a hollow sadness and no reason to live.

It occurs to Bobby that Jackie was right about that day. What happened didn't just tear the Mercers apart.

It obliterated them.

* * *

Good, yes? Lemme know!


End file.
